Daymares
by azure-tears
Summary: Sequel to Dreaming of You. Terrence weaseled his way into a Mac free summer, spending time with his father instead. Mac, left cold, is stuck at home, with an epic creator/imaginary reunion and IF Olympics going on. Chapter 9 up.
1. Chapter 1

Daymares

Chapter One: Letdown (Stop Getting Up for the)

A/N: I saw some of my Foster's ideas were never finished on . I'm on a Foster's kick now, and I thought I'd pick an idea without my usual favorite pairings to guide myself back into the fandom.

I hope, for those of you who notice this that you enjoy! This is a continuation of "Dreaming of You".

* * *

"He's late," Bloo remarked, yanking a paddleball around. Mac noticed idly none of his swings struck their intended target. The eight year old boy flopped back on the couch, groaned, and sat up.

"He'll be here," Mac insisted.

"Or maybe he won't because he's a big fat loser," Bloo replied.

Mac grimaced. "Do you have to say that every other week?"

"Yes," Bloo said. "I do. Do you really think he's going to want to stick around when he already abandoned you the first time?"

Mac glared daggers at his best friend. When it came to tact, Bloo had none. He folded his arms across his chest and sincerely wished his imaginary friend hadn't tagged along on his mini adventure last week. The bond between them was stronger than ever, though it hadn't surfaced much in the past few days. Madame Foster had explained Bloo only saw Mac's activities while the imaginary friend slept and his creator continued being awake. Mac, knowing Bloo's bedtime, had opted to go to bed before it. True, nothing he did in his waking life was as interesting as it had been a few days ago, but it didn't stop Mac's resentment Bloo had peered so far.

"I don't know," Mac said tersely. "He was supposed to pick us up at Foster's."

" 'Us'?" Bloo repeated suspiciously. "You invited _me_ along? Without _asking_ me?"

"Yes, I did," Mac said. "And since Mom doesn't know about my visiting you, it had to be here."

"Who said I wanted to waste my evening with that deadbeat?" Bloo said, tugging the paddleball along. It smacked him in the face and Mac raised his eyebrows.

"We're going to the video game arcade," Mac said. "I'll let you play your favorite game."

"Really?" Bloo said, forgetting his previous anger. "Why didn't you say so earlier?"

He jumped onto the couch beside Mac, who looked again at his watch. The video game arcade date depending on his father arriving, and he was already half an hour late. Foster's had clocks everywhere in the house, thanks to Mr. Herriman's anal retentive nature and strict adherence to rules and deadlines. Every tick of the clock reminded Mac his father was late and he ignored Bloo's new brimming enthusiasm.

"I'm going to go for the vampire teeth again," Bloo informed him and Mac nodded, not caring. He groaned, staring at the clock.

"What?" Bloo said, annoyed his creator wasn't paying attention to him.

"Mom said he might not show," Mac said quietly. "And Terrence..." Terrence had been a pain in the ass. He doubted their father would keep his promise to see the boys and was waiting for him to slip up. He especially hated the idea of Mac having alone time with his father, even if it included Bloo, and thought it distinctly unfair when Mac didn't even remember what it was like to have a father. Terrence did. Therefore, in his older brother's opinion, he was entitled to have time with him, despite his ambivalence toward him. The only reason his father had agreed to an outing with his younger son (and Bloo) was because their mother had interceded for Mac.

His poor overworked mother...Mac's and Terrence's argument had interrupted her from paperwork long enough to break it up. Terrence had leered at his sibling before punching him in the gut and disappearing into his room. Mac's stomach throbbed in recalled pain. And now his father was a half an hour late. He glanced at Bloo, the brimming blue blob that he was, and wrapped an arm around him. No wonder the imaginary friend had had abandonment issues.

"What are you going to do if he doesn't show?" Bloo said nonchalantly. "Wanna beat Coco's top score on pinball?"

"No," Mac said flatly. "I'm sitting here and waiting."

Bloo jumped off the couch. "Suit yourself. Come down when you've given up waiting and bask in my glory once I _finally_ beat Coco's score."

"You can't even beat Eduardo's score and he jumps every time the ball hits the bumpers," Mac pointed out.

Bloo scoffed. "That pinball machine will rue the day it ever took on Blooregard Q. Kazoo!"

"Yeah, sure," his creator said. "Whatever you say." He rolled his eyes and looked back at the clocks. Thirty five minutes.

"Maaaac," Bloo whined. "It'll be epic."

"I'll see you later," he promised.

Bloo snorted. "Whatever."

Yet he lingered, watching his creator stare at the clocks. After a moment's thought, he hopped back on the couch beside him and rested a hand on his back. His brilliant azure eyes watched Mac intently.

"On second thought, let's see what's on TV," Bloo said and grabbed the remote from the table next to them. He flicked through the channels, not lingering on any of them, and his ploy didn't deceive Mac. He didn't want to leave his creator alone while he fretted his father might not come. The dream sharing had brought them closer and Bloo keenly felt Mac's anxiety. He patted Mac's hand while searching for something that didn't suck. Mac smiled weakly. Bloo hadn't found a channel he liked yet. His mad flicking through the channels always irritated Frankie.

"You don't have to do this."

"Yeesh, you'd think someone with their head bitten off by a gigantic dinosaur would stop screaming," Bloo said. Mac sighed, settling himself beside his imaginary friend. Bloo snuggled closer to him and Mac smiled weakly.

"Yeah..." Mac said. Bloo waved a stubby arm in front of his face.

"C'mon, buddy," Bloo said. "Gore!"

"Right..." Mac said. He sat and watched the rest of the awful movie with his imaginary friend. Bloo cheered at the wrong parts, insulted the actors, insinuated he knew better than the writers what was going on, and made completely insane calls. Mac wasn't sure Bloo was acting outrageous to cheer him up, or being his usual self. It didn't lift his mood. The movie had lasted another hour before it ended. His father was now an hour and a half late.

"Pinball!" Bloo announced.

"I'm going home," Mac said. Bloo stared.

"Why?" Bloo said. "The party's just getting started and the night's still young."

"I'm not in the mood," Mac said tensely. Bloo glanced at the clock and his creator's expression. His eyes widened.

"I told you he wouldn't come," Bloo said.

"Yeah, thanks," Mac said, in that same tense tone. He grabbed his backpack off the table and pulled it on his shoulders. Bloo tugged on his backpack straps and hopped onto his head. Mac glared, swiveling his head to stare at his creation, which blinked his eyes innocently and smiled at him. Mac glowered back.

"Frankie's gonna have a movie night!" Bloo said. "You gotta stay." He grinned evilly. "I'm going to swap the movies, so the house has to watch Saw II."

"Right," Mac said. "I really want to be left alone, Bloo. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Fine," the imaginary friend huffed. "Be boring." He hopped off his shoulders and scooted out of the room. Mac followed suit, shoulders hunched and head down. Bloo hadn't left the vicinity; he stared into his creator's eyes and Mac stared back.

"_Stay_. C'mon. It's better than going back to that dumpy apartment, anyway."

Mac heard what Bloo didn't say. _Stay, because I don't like seeing you so miserable, but I'd never admit it._ He nodded, agreeing with the sentiment, and scooped Bloo up in his arms. Bloo grinned, wrapping an arm around his neck, and bubbled to him about other mischievous activity he plotted, right under Mr. Herriman's nose. It rushed past Mac's ears without penetrating his consciousness and he didn't hear the phone until Bloo complained about it. He jerked his head up and Bloo scoffed, waving a stubby arm in front of his face again.

"Didn't you hear what I said?" Bloo whined. "That stupid phone interrupted me!"

Mac rushed to the nearest one, near the stairway, and picked it up. "Hello? Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends."

"Is it a telemarketer?" Bloo said, bouncing on Mac's shoulders. "Ooh, I like them."

"Congratulations," Mac muttered out of the corner of his mouth to him. "You're the only person in the world who does."

"Hello?" the man on the other end said and Mac almost dropped the phone, overeager.

"Dad?" Mac said. Bloo grimaced.

"Darn it, I was hoping it was a telemarketer," Bloo muttered.

"Sorry, I got tied up," his father said. "Can we reschedule?"

"Yeah, sure..." Mac said, fighting to keep the disappointment out of his voice. "What happened?"

His father sighed. "The Powerpuff Girls destroyed another building and caused a bunch of claims to go into effect. I swear, those girls ruin more than they save."

Bloo jumped from Mac's shoulders to the banister, back again, and settled on his head. He draped himself over him and stared at him upside down. Mac snorted, staring back at him. He really hoped he wasn't chewing gum. The last time Bloo had hung over him like that, he was, and Mac had spent the next few hours with Frankie trying to wash it out of his hair. Bloo had suggested Mac shave his head, a suggestion that hadn't met with much enthusiasm.

"You'll definitely be here next week, right?" Mac said, clinging to the hope.

"I'll try," his father confirmed. "I've gotta get back on the job."

"Yeah, of course," Mac said and after they said their goodbyes, he hung up the phone. Bloo rested his stubby arms on his shoulders...and promptly fell off. His creator caught him deftly and headed for the downstairs, where Foster's video arcade was located. Bloo was patient for a few seconds before jumping out of his arms and staring at him.

"_Well_?" Bloo demanded. "What did he say?"

"He said he'd reschedule," Mac said. "Let's go play pinball."

"I told you he'd wimp out."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"But I _told_ you-"

"Stop."

"Okay, okay," Bloo said and scoffed. "Baby."'


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Frankie had spotted Bloo's disc changing earlier and, after screaming at him for a few minutes, she scooted him back toward the other friends. He grumbled about it being a gyp, grabbed his paddleball, and missed every swing. He shuffled over to Mac, explaining to Wilt, Coco, and Eduardo how his father had canceled on him again. He hung back, listening to see whether his story varied any from what he had told Bloo.

"I guess it wasn't his fault," Mac said. "I mean, it was out of his hands."

"(He'll be here next week)," Coco said.

"Yeah, I'm sure your father wants to get to know you," Wilt said. He patted Mac on the shoulder and the boy smiled weakly. He nodded and turned his head; he had sensed his imaginary friend lurking behind the sofa and gestured for him to join him. Bloo headed over, hopping up beside him and grinning at him. Mac forced a smile, annoying Bloo.

"You're in an arcade," Bloo said, snorting. "C'mon, have _fun_. Lighten up."

"Bloo, I really don't think he wants-" Wilt started and Mac shook his head. He jumped off the couch, Bloo smirked, and the imaginary friend guided him to an old machine he had located a few days ago that hardly anyone ever used. It was temperamental and Frankie had said she'd replace it, but until she did, he'd keep playing with it. Once in a while, it electrocuted him, which was probably why Frankie wanted it gone, but the electrocutions were random and, like the game, he liked trying to find out where and when it happened. He hadn't come up with a pattern yet, but he was working on it.

Mac eyed the dusty console with distaste. It was grimy and muck covered one of its quarter slots. The boy wrinkled his nose and folded his arms across his chest. "Bloo, are you sure you should be playing with that? It looks like it should be thrown out."

"Yeah, Frankie thinks so too," Bloo said in an offhand way. He slipped a quarter in and received an instant shock. Wincing, he drew back and returned, jumping up to grip the controls. At Mac's expression, Bloo said, "Yeah, she'll do that."

"I really don't think you should be playing with something that _electrocutes_ you," Mac said warningly.

"What are you, my mother?" Bloo said. He grinned at the start up screen, which was so old, it made the first Nintendo system graphics look top of the line. The characters were large, blocky, and moved woodenly. The title screen announced it was a fighting game, and small droplets of pixilated, poorly rendered blood spilled to the yellow bottom layer that was supposed to be the ground on the game. The fighter on the left, the one who had gotten punched, fell to the ground while the victor, a man wearing red boxing gloves and jumping in the air, hit the title and broke it apart. Bloo grinned.

"No, but, I _am_ your creator, and as such-" Mac stopped when another jolt ran through Bloo. The imaginary friend fell over onto his back and stared, dazed, up at the machine. He thought he smelled smoke; Mac hissed and dragged him away. Then, with a determined expression on his face, he crawled next to the machine, into the grime, and screeched. A light lit him up and Bloo smirked, joining him.

"Yeah, I really think she does that as a sign of affection," Bloo said. He rubbed the machine's side. "Yes, you do."

"I unplugged it," Mac snapped. "Don't be ridiculous. 'She' wasn't being affectionate. The wire is frayed."

"Oh, fine," Bloo complained. "Suck all the fun out of it."

"What are you two doing on the floor?" Frankie complained, peering down at them. She offered them hands up, which they both accepted, though Bloo whined and stared back at the machine. Mac rolled his eyes, brushed himself off, and yanked Bloo forward before the imaginary dashed for the cord to plug it back in. He maintained a strong grip on Bloo's upper arm and Bloo whined, disliked being curtailed by his creator.

"Mac unplugged Sparky!" Bloo groused.

"You _named_ it?" Mac said, incredulous.

Frankie looked in the direction Bloo pointed. "I've been meaning to put up a sign on it not to touch and unplug it myself. It electrocutes people every two hours."

Bloo crept closer and Mac dragged him back, wrapping his arms around him. Bloo whined again, straining to reach Sparky. His little limbs flailed and he kicked at Mac. However, the boy was used to this and hoisted him off to a safer area of the arcade. Frankie scoffed, rolling her eyes too, and headed for the gigantic TV in the arcade room. The original movie, which Frankie had replaced in the DVD player, ran its opening menu. Bloo scoffed- lame. Who wanted to watch a stupid cartoon when they could watch a movie about people getting their heads cut off?

"The pizza will be here in a half hour!" Frankie announced to the gathered friends. "We're watching Monsters Inc, in case anyone was curious."

"Saw II would have been way better," Bloo said loudly.

"I'm onto you," Frankie snapped back. She calmed down. "So sit, relax, and enjoy the show."

Mr. Herriman hopped closer. "And let's not forget, Miss Frances, the proper decorum and rules for eating and watching movies. No talking during the movie, no _complaining_ during it-" he looked straight at Bloo, who huffed and rolled his eyes.

He proceeded to detail more rules Bloo ignored and he looked at his creator. Mac, despite the smile on his face, was still upset. Bloo suppressed a scream. He had liked it better when Mac thought his father was dead or missing. This new relationship wasn't an improvement, in Bloo's eyes. Mac spent half of his time worrying about whether his father would like him and other half worrying he wouldn't show. Bloo didn't understand why it mattered. The guy had abandoned Mac right before Bloo had been created and had only returned because Mac had nearly killed himself finding him.

"Yeah, yeah, we got it," Bloo said and tugged Mac onto a couch. He stared at him and Mac stared straight ahead. He _knew_ it was still bugging him, could sense it in the back of his mind, and wished he'd let it go.

…

The movie hadn't alleviated Mac's woes and Bloo grew bored, disliking what he considered a predictable plot and lack of special effects. When his creator ambled out of the room, he followed him. Mac, deep in thought, didn't notice Bloo's presence, even when the little imaginary cleared his throat loudly. He did it several times and Mac glanced at him before sighing.

"I have to go soon anyway," Mac said.

"Yeesh, Mac, he isn't worth it," Bloo said. "He let you walk all over the country-"

"It wasn't 'all over the country'," Mac corrected. Bloo closed his mouth on a scream.

"He let you walk all over the place trying to find him and now he ditches you again," Bloo said. "If you ask me, he isn't much of a father."

"No one asked you," Mac said acidly. "I'm heading home."

"Aw, c'mon," he griped. "You've been uptight ever since you met him."

"Yeah, well..." Mac said and sighed, looking around. "You're not really helping."

"Moi?" Bloo said, with mock outrage. "I always help. You wouldn't have survived meeting him if it weren't for me."

Mac didn't answer. Bloo knew he'd scored a point and the imaginary friend grinned, pursuing the advantage. He ignored Mac staring at the floor, hugging himself, and looking thoroughly despondent.

"I don't mean that," Mac said tensely. "I mean you don't have to rub it in."

"Rub what in?" Bloo said, oblivious. "That I helped?"

"No," Mac said. "That he might pack up and leave again. Terrence is already giving me trouble about it. I don't need to hear it from you too."

"Well, _excuse me_ for pointing out something I thought you should know," Bloo said. "Maybe I should just keep my opinion to myself from now on."

"Bloo, you wouldn't be able to keep your mouth shut for five minutes, let alone long enough to keep your opinion to yourself," Mac said. "Forget it."

"Is that a bet?" Bloo said.

"No, it's not a bet, or a dare, or anything like that," Mac said, sighing. "I'm tired. I'm going home. G'night, Bloo."

"What time are you going to bed?" Bloo asked, in what he thought was a curious and subtle way. Mac shot him a dirty look.

"Earlier than you," his creator confirmed. "Go back and watch the movie."

Bloo huffed, folding his arms across his chest, and walked his human to the door. He hated how he held himself, arms stiff at their sides and head down. Mac's sorrow was like an itch at the back of his mind he couldn't scratch and he almost felt like apologizing, but he seldom did that. He reached the door before the words even formed in his brain and he tugged on Mac's sleeve. Mac turned, exasperated.

"So...tomorrow?" Bloo said, instead of whatever comforting words he should have said, if his mind had worked like that.

"Right," Mac agreed, freeing his sleeve from his grip. He and Bloo stared at each other and, with a wave, Mac walked off. Bloo watched him until he was a dot on the street and shut the door. Hmm. His stomach grumbled. He was hungry. Maybe it was time to raid the fridge, now that everyone was too busy with the movie to notice him.

A pain, like someone had punched him in the gut, gave him pause. He hesitated, looking around. He thought immediately of Terrence, though why that should be, he didn't know. The pain faded as quickly as it had arisen and Bloo shrugged it off, resuming his trek to the fridge for snacks. In the back of his mind, he detected Mac and tried not to think about the combination of Terrence, the pain in his stomach, and his creator.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

"You know, letting you off with just one punch would be too easy," Terrence said. Mac cowered before him; his little limbs trembled, and, in the back of his head, he felt Bloo. It irritated him and he straightened...just in time to be kicked in the side. Groaning, he looked up and Terrence pile drived him. His eyes watered and he gasped.

"If you screw this up, I'll make the rest of your life a living hell," he snapped.

"I'm not the reason..." Mac choked, having problems getting the words out, "Dad didn't come..."

"You and your stupid imaginary friend better not ruin this," Terrence repeated. He balled his fists and glowered. "Or else."

Mac wasn't stupid enough to ask 'or else what'. He groaned, rolling over onto his side, and massaged his tender midsection. Terrence waited until he was capable of standing before walking off and Mac hissed, limping while he held his stomach. He tried not to think about how much he hated his brother, or how unfair it was Terrence constantly picked on him. He also tried not to think about Bloo's presence in the back of his mind.

Terrence kept about ten feet away from Mac, so it looked like Mac was randomly following an older kid home. Walking only made the injuries worse, but he wasn't going to lie there and wait for them to get better. For all he knew, Terrence was waiting for an opportunity like that. So he toughed it out, mentally calculating how far it was from Foster's Home to his apartment. The answer he came up with- "way too far".

Every block jostled his newfound bruises and he suppressed groans. Terrence looked back at the crosswalks and smirked at his younger brother, who avoided eye contact. When it came time for the light to change, Terrence darted in, catching a red light before Mac had a chance and disappearing into the crowd. Taking advantage of the reprieve, Mac rested against a sign.

Dimly, like water reflections in a pond's depths, he 'saw' Bloo in his mind's eye and heard, like a memory, him call his name. Ignoring him, he trudged forward. His whole body hurt and he ignored the curious stares of passerby. He waited for the light to turn again, crossed, and continued home. He thought he heard Goo jabbering somewhere in the crowd, but when he looked up, she wasn't there. It didn't matter.

The resumed walk took longer than it should have. Instead of twenty minutes, it took nearly thirty, and Terrence was waiting at the door for him when he arrived. The nasty smirk on his face had vanished, however, and he looked confused, which wasn't an unusual expression, but still. It looked like he might have been thinking...and that _was_ unusual for him.

Terrence shoved him into the apartment and Mac stopped, suddenly aware of two things. One, Bloo's presence in his mind had grown stronger, meaning the imaginary friend was either close to sleep, or something had shifted dramatically in their bond. Two, his father was sitting on a chair across from his mother and both parents wore extremely rigid smiles, like they wanted to hurt each other, but were feigning politeness for the sake of their children. Mac swallowed, mentally flicking a hand at Bloo, who blew him a raspberry and stayed where he was.

"Oh, good, you're home," his mother said, oblivious to her younger son limping inside. Terrence shut the door, locked it, and pushed Mac onto the couch. Mac stumbled, caught himself, and glared at his older brother, who smiled innocently. Tonight of all nights, Bloo had decided to go to bed early. Jeez. What were the odds? And since when had Bloo actually ever cared that much about his creator's life that he'd be willing to forgo fun to spy on him?

_"It's not 'forgoing fun', or whatever you said. It's keeping an eye on you, so you don't get yourself killed without me. Really, Mac, where would you be without my loving guidance?"_

Bloo's voice came at a distance; perhaps he wasn't asleep. He also wasn't present aside from his commentary, which had been a prerequisite for the dreams. So, acting like the minor irritant didn't exist, he looked at his parents. Terrence sat beside him on the couch and stared at their father. His steel grey eyes drummed into his father's face and Mac grabbed the couch's edge for comfort. His fingers were one of the few spots on his body that didn't hurt.

"Your father and I have been discussing our...situations," his mother said.

"Yeah, and?" Terrence broke in. He stared from one parent to the other.

"Your father would like to, on an experimental basis, seek custody of one of you," their mother said.

"Custody?" Terrence said at the same time Mac said, "One of us?"

"I'm not sure I can handle both of you at the same time," their father explained.

"Traditionally, the courts don't like to split siblings up," their mother said, with a dirty look at his father. "But this might be better than the alternative."

"Which is what?" Terrence snapped. "Spending another few years in this cruddy apartment?"

"Terrence!" their mother snapped. "No, the alternative being visiting on the weekends, which doesn't seem to work."

"But...would we have to move to Townsville? What about school? And friends?"

"You don't have any-" Terrence started and Mac kicked him.

"That's what we've been discussing. It's not fair to uproot you two in order for this to work...and we have to get the court to agree to it, too," she said.

"And we can always drive back here to visit your friends," his father said. Bloo's interest waned, like he was flipping channels in Mac's mind. Mac rolled his eyes at him and hoped his father wouldn't mention anything about the type of friends Mac had in town, which weren't of the normal, human variety. In fact, Frankie and Madame Foster were his only real, human friends, and he couldn't mention them without somehow bringing up how he had lied to his mother about abandoning Bloo.

"That's _if_ this goes through," their mother corrected.

"And _if_ he goes with him," Terrence snapped. "Why should he? It isn't fair. He doesn't even remember him. Just because he ran away from home-"

"He ran away because you goaded him," their mother snapped.

"We'd switch off," their father said quickly. "One of you would be with me for six months, then another for the rest of the year."

…

_"So, are you going to do it?"_

"Do _what_?" Mac hissed aloud. His parents' meeting was over and he was back in his room. Bloo sat on his bed and swung his legs back and forth. The imaginary friend's presence had gone from minor irritant to major annoyance and the worst part about it was that suppressing Bloo and regaining his thoughts without interference wasn't an option.

Bloo snorted at him. _"What do you mean, 'do what'? Stay with your father for six months. What did you think I was talking about- daring Coco to lay an egg in a birds' nest? Actually, that'd be kind of interesting, especially if the egg had lizards in it..."_

"I think Terrence might kill me first," Mac said, addressing Bloo's original point and not the tangent he'd gone on. "He's furious Dad would even consider getting custody of me."

His imaginary friend, however, continued on his tangent and didn't seem to have noticed Mac had addressed him. He was running scenarios in his head and imagining the birds being eaten or taking flight in horror. Then he wondered whether Coco had ever tried to join a flock of birds only to discover she couldn't fly...he snapped his fingers in front of his face and Bloo blinked.

_"What?"_

"Focus," he hissed. "If I live in Townsville for six months, how am I supposed to see you every day?"

_"Oh, that's easy,_" Bloo snorted. _"You could always take a bus. Or have your dad drive you."_

"Don't you think it'd look a little suspicious? Not to mention there aren't actually any buses that run from there to Townsville."

_"You always have to make things difficult, don't you?"_

He sighed. "Bloo, do you always..." He paused and stepped toward the door. Crooking his hand, he beckoned to Bloo, who hopped off his bed and followed. His imaginary friend gave him a quizzical look.

_"What are we listening for?"_

"There's no way in hell I'm sharing my time with Dad with that little freak!" Terrence snapped. "I don't give a shit if he's Mac's father too!"

"Terrence!" their mother snapped. "Watch your language!"

"Just because he almost got himself killed doesn't mean he has any right to him!" the older boy continued heatedly. "He wouldn't have run out if Mac hadn't been born! I don't see why Mac gets rewarded when it's _his_ fault Dad left in the first place. We were just fine until Mac came along and ruined everything."

_"Ooh, ouch,"_ Bloo said sympathetically. He placed a hand on Mac's shoulder but since he wasn't actually there, just dreaming that he was, the arm had no substance. _"You okay, buddy?"_

"He's right..." Mac breathed. He looked back at him and ignored the tears swimming in his eyes.

A stinging slap brought their attention back to the drama unfolding in the living room. "Don't talk about your brother like that! And for all you know, he might have left even if Mac wasn't born. You can't make assumptions like that, and frankly, Terrence, I'm getting a little sick of your attitude. Why can't you just be happy, for once?"

"Because I hate him! Him and his stupid little imaginary friend!" Terrence snarled. Mac and Bloo exchanged a look.

"I'm sorry you feel that way," their mother said archly. Mac's heart drummed in his chest, but his mother didn't acknowledge the last half of Terrence's statement. "Go to bed. I'll deal with this in the morning."

"You always say that," Terrence sneered. He stomped away and punched the door Mac stood behind, jostling him and sending vibrations through Bloo's incorporeal state. Mac's head ache and he waited for the world to stop swimming. Judging by the aggravated sigh, the older boy's actions had not gone amiss, but she chose to ignore them.

"Oh, Mac..." his mother said, perhaps thinking her son was asleep or else, not eavesdropping. "I wish you hadn't found him."

Mac flung himself on the bed and dug around in his mind for the irritating little burr Bloo was at the moment. He yanked it up and Bloo resisted. Another firm tug brought a frustrated scream to Bloo's lips and he jumped in front of Mac's head.

_"Hey, what are you trying to do here?"_

"I wanna be left alone, Bloo."

He shut his eyes and rolled over, facing the wall. Sniffles and a few muffled cries escaped him and he pressed his face into the pillow.

_"Aw, c'mon. You always knew Terrence was a jerk...and your mom-"_

"Don't," Mac snapped. "Just leave me alone."

But he didn't. Perhaps he sensed leaving would have been the worst possible thing for his creator right now...or else he opted to be stubborn instead, but Bloo sat right behind Mac. Unable to physically touch him, Bloo watched him choke on his sobs and then punch the wall. The apartment was dead silent.

_"Mac?"_

"Maybe you could wake up and sneak in," Mac mumbled. "I'll leave my door open."


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: Sorry, guys, I forgot this was on my other account and not my main one.

Chapter Four

Bloo yanked open the door and looked in on his creator. Intuition told him Mac was still awake, face buried in the pillows, and staring at nothing. A few hoarse sobs penetrated the room and, shuffling over, Bloo hopped onto Mac's bed. The eight year old immediately scrunched back, allowing Bloo to sit on his pillow and not fall off the bed. He looked up at his imaginary friend and his eyes were red rimmed. For a few moments, they said nothing. Bloo laid a stubby arm on Mac's head and Mac suddenly grabbed him and pressed him against him.

"Hey, hey, what do you think you're doing?" Bloo protested, squashed against Mac's side. "I can't breathe here!"

"Sorry," he said and released him just enough for Bloo's head to resurface. He gasped, shook his head, and muttered darkly. Mac ignored him. Though he held onto him and he looked right at him, his gaze was far away. This was the first time in a long time they'd been in his bedroom at night together. Its significance was not lost on either of them.

"I think Terrence went to sleep," Mac said hoarsely.

"Who needs him, anyway?" Bloo retorted, but quietly, so they weren't overheard. "He's just a big fat jerk anyway. You shouldn't have listened to him in the first place."

"I know, I know," Mac said, despondent. "This whole thing is my fault. If I hadn't let Terrence goad me into trying to find my dad, none of this would have happened. And if I hadn't been born..."

"Wait, hey," Bloo said and rested his forehead against Mac's. "If you weren't born, I'd never have been created."

Mac snorted humorlessly. "Thanks for putting things into prospective, Bloo."

"Maybe Terrence shouldn't have been born."

"Then you wouldn't have been created."

"Oh, jeez. I have to _thank_ that lunk for my existence?" he snorted rudely. "Thanks but no thanks, buster."

"I'm sorry I upset Mom...and even Terrence," he said and his voice broke. He started trembling and Bloo wrapped his arms around him. One little blobby arm stroked Mac's hair and they stared into each other's eyes for a moment. Bloo felt Mac's misery in the back of his mind and growled, frustrated. He tipped Mac's head in his direction.

"Listen, if you hadn't been born, I wouldn't have been created. And wishing isn't gonna help anyone, 'cuz you can't wish yourself out of existence. What's done is done. Yeesh."

"I should have known you'd spin this into something about you," he said flatly. "I'm going to bed, Bloo."

"Of course it's about me!" Bloo said in an impatient huff. "You're my creator! My existence is tied to yours! What part of 'if you weren't there, I wouldn't be either' don't you get?"

"I get it," Mac said icily. The frost in his voice stopped Bloo short and he realized his selfishness had hurt him. He swallowed; this was the moment where he really should apologize or at least make it up to him. Bloo couldn't share Mac's dreams if Mac fell asleep before him and if Mac kicked him out, he'd lose his chance to make things right before tomorrow.

"What do you want me to say?" he said, desperate.

"Nothing," Mac said and rolled over. "Good night."

"But _Mac_," he said plaintively and his voice rose. Mac rolled back over and raised his eyebrows.

"Sssh. Do you want to wake Terrence and my mom up?"

Both parties heard a thud and jumped. Unconsciously, Bloo inched closer to Mac, who didn't protest. After a split second indecision, they raced to the wall Mac's room shared with Terrence and heard more thumps, this time less ground shaking than the first one. The imaginary friend and his creator shared a look, eyes wide. Mac's hand rested on Bloo's head.

"What was that?" Mac said.

Bloo crept to the door and they had a silent scuffle over him opening it. Mac won, and as a result, Bloo pressed himself against him, concealed by able to see if he poked his head around the side. He'd have to do it quickly, however, or else he'd be seen in turn. Bloo was excited and curious, and Mac's anxiety weighed in the back of Bloo's mind. He wished he'd relax.

"Fuck this," Terrence snapped and closed the door. He looked over at Mac.

"Where are you going at one in the morning?" Mac said quietly.

"Nowhere," Terrence sneered and punched Mac in the stomach. "Now shut up and don't tell anyone."

"Hey, you can't hit him like that," Bloo said and Terrence sneered.

"How about this, little bro?" he said. "You let me go and I won't tell Mom your stupid little imaginary friend snuck over here again."

"Blackmail, eh?" Bloo said. "I'll show you blackmail, you-"

"Bloo, shush," Mac said, holding his stomach. He stared up at Terrence. "Where are you going?"

"Dad's staying in a hotel," the older boy answered. "I'm going to see him and convince him to take me with him. You and your stupid little blob can fuck off."

"You kiss your mother with that mouth?" Bloo sneered. Mac clapped a hand over his mouth.

"As a matter of fact..." Terrence grinned and shoved them back into the room. They heard the sounds of something heavy moving in place in front of the door and Mac pounded his fists on it. Forgetting himself, Bloo yelled with him until Mac kicked him and shut him up. A hissed "you're not supposed to be here, remember?" got Bloo to reluctantly be quiet.

"Mom!" Mac called, reduced to shouting at the walls. "Terrence is running away!"

The front door of the apartment slammed and rattled the whole structure. After pounding his fists raw, Mac had to concede that maybe his mother would sleep through it. He slumped to the floor and looked at Bloo, who shrugged.

"Let him go," he said. "Who needs him? Besides, what do _you_ care?"

"I want to get to know my father too," he said and stared at him. "I know Terrence doesn't want to share, but-"

"They're both lazy jerks. Good riddance," Bloo sneered.

"Look who's talking."

"Moi?" Bloo said in mock outrage. "I'm not an idiot who can barely add two and two. And since am _I_ lazy? I help clean Foster's."

"You sprayed air freshener. That doesn't count as cleaning."

"It cleaned the air."

"Whatever," Mac said, rolling his eyes. "I want to get to know my dad, but I don't want to cause a rift in the whole family."

"Too late for that, isn't it?" Bloo commented and patted him on the shoulder. "You already started something."

"Yeah, and now we're locked in."

Bloo snorted. "Speak for yourself. I can get out any time I want to." To demonstrate, he headed for the door, which he had difficulty opening. After several attempts, he whined and looked at Mac, who snickered and opened it for him. Bloo blew him a raspberry and jumped onto the fire escape.

"See? Easy."

"I'm going to bed," Mac announced. "I'll see you tomorrow, Bloo."

"Hey, want me to tail Terrence and see what happens?" he said excitedly. "Maybe he'll chuck him out and he'll be locked out of the apartment."

"No."

"Aw, c'mon, you don't really think they're going to run off, do you?" Bloo said, rolling his eyes. "Puh-leeze. That'd be so anti climactic. Terrence and your father, running off into the sunset, holding hands...What's next? An Easter special with Herriman laying eggs?"

"Rabbits don't really lay eggs, you know."

"Duh," Bloo sneered, though he hadn't actually known. "But Herriman's _imaginary_. I'm sure he's laid _something_."

"Just go back to Foster's, would you? And no side trips."

"Okay, okay, jeez. Live a little, would you?" Bloo said and eased his way down the fire escape. Mac watched him until he was out of sight. Even without Mac's eyes on him, he knew his creator worried about the whole situation. He probably wouldn't get much sleep, either. The doors slid closed in Mac's room, but his creator hadn't moved from his spot.

Great. Bloo was going to have to deal with this all night. He thought hard at him "_relax, would ya?_", but he didn't think he got the message.

…

He jolted awake and, for a few seconds, thought the continued panic and screams had belonged to his dreams. Bloo the burr in his side had sunk and he no longer paid Mac any mind, which suited Mac fine at the moment. Something shattered in the living room and, thoughtless, he darted to the door to open it. It took him a few seconds to remember Terrence had wedged it shut.

"First Mac and now him!" his mother snapped and Mac scowled at the door. He looked at the fire escape, through which Bloo had departed last night, and dressed. He might as well be fully clothed before he attempted the same feat, although, for all he knew, Bloo had accidentally grabbed the spare key on his way out.

He heard furniture being moved and his door was wrenched open. His mother stood in the doorway and fury and concern radiated off her in equal amounts. In her hands she held a note, not unlike the one he had left her before seeking his father. Unconsciously, he groped for the block in his head Bloo had represented, and understood abruptly what he had taken to mean Bloo's conscious state was none of the sort. Bloo wasn't dreaming, nor was he awake. His unease grew and he shifted from foot to foot.

"Do you know anything about this?' she asked and he blinked, bewildered.

"No, of course you wouldn't," she answered. "Terrence ran away last night-" she fixed him a very sharp look- "and the court granted your father temporary custody over him. They're back in Townsville right now."

"They...left without me?" Mac said softly.

His mother wasn't listening. She had departed for the hallway to rant about Terrence's selfishness and how Mac's father returning was stress she could have done without. Within a few minutes, it became apart she wasn't going to know him from a spot on the wall and he crept toward the door. She whirled on him suddenly and he froze.

"Unless you're going to drag your brother back here, you're not leaving this apartment."

He sighed, turning back. He had to find Bloo and figure out what had happened to him, and if Terrence and their father were already in Townsville, not leaving the apartment was a foregone conclusion. She hugged him and stroked his hair.

"Mac...I need you to be the good son. The one who never disobeys me or lies to me," she said and, again, he thought of Bloo.

"I guess," he said.

"Good," she said. "Because we're going to Townsville to have a talk with your father."


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: Aw, no new reviews for this. You make azure-tears sad.

C'mon, review! Please? Pretty please with a cherry on top?

Chapter Five

Bloo's head pounded and he couldn't open his eyes wider than a crack. Groaning, he stared blearily at the blue sky above him. He had followed Terrence and then...he had a huge chunk of time missing from his memory. It had been one in the morning when he set out after Mac's older brother and now it had to be eight or nine o'clock. He groaned. The next time he woke up somewhere strange with a pounding headache, he wanted a good reason for it.

He rocked his body back and forth, freeing it from a pile of garbage someone had thrown on him earlier, and, the breath knocked out of him, he crashed into the ground. For a few minutes, he laid there, moaning. His whole body felt like it'd been pummeled with a sledgehammer and he thought he might have to crawl home. What had Terrence done to him? (And how had he let him, considering he used to beat the crap out of Terrence whenever he picked on Mac?)

He lifted his head at footsteps. Mac skidded to a stop in front of him and splashed garbage water on him.

"Ew," Bloo said. "Mac, couldn't you stop somewhere else?"

Mac scowled. "I'm not even supposed to be out here. I told my mom I was going to check with the hotel to see if my dad had checked out, and I already wasted twenty minutes looking for you instead."

He looked his imaginary friend over and the scowl deepened. "What did Terrence _do_ to you?"

"Heck if I know," Bloo said and stood, immediately falling over. Mac sighed and picked him up. He sniffed and pulled a face, holding his nose away from him.

"Man, you reek."

"You'd stink too if you'd gotten flung into a dumpster," Bloo snapped and Mac looked up. He smiled and, still cradling Bloo, dashed in the opposite direction. The water splashed beneath his sneakers and he headed around the corner, stopping in front of a set of gilded double doors. The insides of the door were glass, which Mac pushed open. It looked posh, but on the inside, it was a dump. The upholstery was coming apart, the wallpaper and the carpet, now a nondescript gray because of all the footwear, had seen better days, and the person behind the counter looked very unenthusiastic. Bloo couldn't blame her. He wouldn't want to work in a crap shack like this.

"Excuse me," Mac said, with Bloo bundled against his chest. "Have you seen my father? Or my brother? My brother's name is Terrence- he came barging in here around one thirty in the morning-"

"I know who you're looking for and he's not here anymore," the woman said dully. "Neither of them is." She had bright blond hair and looked about forty. Her face was square shaped and her blue eyes bored holes into them. Mac grimaced.

"I see. Could you tell me where they went..." he trailed off when he saw a car pull up. Bloo hissed and jumped out of Mac's arms. He slunk behind a couch and watched, arm holding onto the side of the couch. He glared daggers at Mac's mother; he had never forgiven her for forcing Mac to leave him at Foster's, even if Mac had come back for him.

"Oh, there you are," Mac's mother said.

"They left," Mac said. She frowned.

"I was afraid of that," she said and sniffed. "Why do you smell like a dumpster?"

"I went the wrong way," he said and looked quickly at Bloo, who ducked behind the couch. Mac's mother didn't see him, though she noticed Mac's eyes slide over.

"What are you looking at?" she asked.

"Nothing," he said quickly and she grimaced, putting a hand on his head.

"C'mon, let's go home. You can wash up and get that stench off...and I'll call your father," she said, sighing. She guided him out the door and Bloo watched, hissing at her quietly. They had almost cleared the door when the woman, popping her gum and looking like the rip-off artist from the mall, called out to them.

"Aren't you forgetting your imaginary friend, kid?" the woman said. Mac's eyes widened to saucers and Bloo felt his blind panic rise in the back of his mind. He moved out from his hiding place and scoffed at the woman.

"Ha! Like my creator would be such a _loser_," Bloo said. Mac's mother halted, arm on the door. She glared at Bloo, who glared back. Mac swallowed hard, looking between the two of them.

"Mac, you better not be hiding something from me, because I warn you right now, I am _not_ in the mood," she growled.

"Mac? I'm _way_ over him," Bloo said, rolling his eyes. "Seriously. I moved onto someone way cooler. I mean, short sleeves over long sleeves is _so_ four years ago. The kid has no fashion sense."

Despite Bloo's cavalier attitude, his heart pounded like mad inside his chest. Though he hated his creator's mother with every nonexistent bone in his body, he'd never want to risk losing Mac because of her. He knew the same fear shone in his creator too, because his eyes gleamed with it and it pounded a steady beat in the back of his mind. They stared at each other for a few seconds, deer in the headlights.

"Really, Mom. He just happened to be here. It's not like I went looking for him," Mac scoffed.

Mac's mother still looked suspicious, but she was too tired to argue. With a sharp 'you better not have', she drew Mac away. Bloo simmered, waiting until she was out of earshot before screaming obscenities in her direction. Frustrated and wishing he hadn't lost his creator, he shuffled out. He rummaged through his memories to see what had landed him in the dumpster and, with a start, he had it.  
**

* * *

**

_"Stay the hell away from me, you stupid little fucker," Terrence growled, kicking Bloo and sending him sprawling. Snarling, the azure blob drew himself up to his full height, which only came up to about Terrence's knee, and launched himself with a battle cry at the greasy teen. He swung his arms and Terrence punched him in the face. Bloo flew through the air and crashed into the dumpster lid. Pain flared along his back and he screamed, straightening and glaring at the thirteen year old._

_Terrence punched him in the face again and laughed, a cruel malicious sound serving only to piss Bloo off. A tiny part of him, which he wouldn't normally acknowledge, was frightened. Terrence was off his nut._

_"Hey, what'd I ever do to you?" Bloo grumbled and ducked when Terrence aimed a heavy blow at his head._

_He could still see, though one eye was swollen shut. His depth perception was off and instead of hitting him he fell to the right and landed on the ground. He had enough time to consider rolling when he saw Terrence raise his leg to crush him. He picked up speed and knocked him off his feet. He jumped onto his chest and snapped a "ha!" at him._

_"I'd like to see Mac's face now," Terrence snapped and snickered. "Would he cuddle his widdle Bloo? He's such a baby."_

_He aimed another strike at him and Bloo dodged it too, bashing his head into Terrence's forehead. The resulting crack wounded both boys, but Bloo wasn't done. He straightened and readied himself for another blow when Terrence scooped him up by the scruff of his neck and punched him again, hard enough to see stars. Dazed and with a monstrous headache, he didn't see the next blow, the one that ultimately knocked him out._  
**

* * *

**

He slumped against the dumpster again and groaned. He might as well make his way back to Foster's. The others might be concerned about him and, even if they weren't, he might be able to evoke some pity with his appearance. He trudged off, his whole body screaming protests for moving. The next time he saw Terrence, he was going to regret picking on him. Oh, and making Mac miserable. That too.  
**

* * *

**

They were silent for a moment in the car.

"So you really haven't seen Bloo in a while?" his mother asked.

"No," Mac lied. He thought back on his imaginary friend's bruises and grimaced.

"You don't think he tried to see Terrence, do you?" she asked suddenly and he jumped. That was exactly what Bloo had done.

"He might have," Mac hedged.

"As long as he wasn't sneaking into our apartment while we were asleep and seeing _you_," she said. Mac bit his tongue hard to prevent his outburst. It was perfectly fine for Terrence to hand Bloo's head to him, but it wasn't okay for Bloo to be in the apartment at night? What kind of logic was that?

"You don't miss him, do you?"

"Miss who?" Mac said, barely opening his mouth to speak. He stared out the window rather than look at her.

"Bloo."

"No," he lied, in that same sullen tone.

"You're better off without him," she said and placed a hand on his shoulder. She wrinkled her nose. "Even if you do smell like garbage."

In the back of his mind, he sensed Bloo's resentment and pain from Terrence's beating. Better off, huh? Mac would beg to disagree.

The silence returned and Mac swallowed. "Mom...can we drive Bloo back to Foster's, at least?"

His mother looked at him sharply. The car hadn't started yet and her hand lingered on the key in the ignition. Tension spread and he swallowed again, looking back at Bloo by the dumpster. He walked hunched over, with his hand on his knee.

"He's just an imaginary friend..." his mother said, but she caved."All right, fine. He can come...but only to Foster's. And then we're finished with him."

Mac kept his little 'yes' to himself, and popped open the door. "Hey, Bloo! Get in!"

"You gotta be kidding me," Bloo said.

"Nope," Mac said. "My mom'll drive you back to Foster's."

"I'd rather walk, thanks," Bloo sniffed. He folded his arms across his chest and stared at Mac's mother, though it was rather pathetic considering both eyes could only open a tiny amount.

"C'mon, Bloo, you'll get hurt if you walk back in that shape," Mac said.

"I'd rather get hurt than ride in the car with _her_," Bloo huffed.

Mac's mother rolled down the window. "Oh, really? Is that so? It sounds like he doesn't want our charity. I need to talk to your father...and you need to take a shower. Let's go."

"No, wait, please!" Mac said, desperation speeding his heart and inducing sweat. "I can convince him to come with us. Just give me a minute."

Mac's mother's response was to bang her head into the steering wheel and Mac slammed the door on his way out. He headed over to Bloo, who glared, sullen, at the woman in the car.

"I wouldn't share a car with her if my life depended on it," the imaginary friend proclaimed.

"Would you cut it out?" Mac hissed. "I don't want you walking home when you can barely see your hands in front of your face."

"I'll be fine," he promised and tripped. Mac shook his head.

"You're coming with me whether you like it or not."

Bloo searched for a pole to latch onto and when none appeared, he punched Mac in the jaw. Wincing, he let go of him and Bloo, cackling, raced off to bang into the dumpster. He groaned, staring up at the sky and his creator. Mac sighed, staring down at him.

"I meant to do that."

"Look, Bloo, one car ride. That's all I'm asking."

"Why don't you just take my _soul_ while you're at it?"

He sighed and pinched his nose bridge. "Do you always have to be so dramatic?"

"I don't know, Mac. Does your mom always have to act like she's got a stick up her-"

"_Mac_!" his mother snapped. "Either grab him and go, or leave him, but I'm not waiting any longer."

Mac scooped Bloo up and Bloo protested, waving his arms and flailing madly. He pushed against the car door when Mac opened it and had to be flung into the back seat. Mac dove at him when he jumped for the other door, in order to escape, and, straining, Mac buckled him in. Bloo glared at him with a look of utmost loathing.

"I won't forget this," Bloo promised darkly.

"Mac, strap yourself in and let's go," his mother said, sighing. "I'm not any happier about this than you are."

"Wanna bet?" Bloo muttered.

"Bloo," Mac hissed. "Stop it."

"I didn't ask to be stuck in the car with a whiny overworked mom who wouldn't know what's good for her kids if it bit her in the-"

Mac elbowed him and he shut up. Mac's mother glared at Bloo and Bloo glared back.

"I am so glad you're rid of him," she said and muttered under her breath about imaginary friends outliving their usefulness. Mac had to gag Bloo with a pillow to keep him from retorting. Muffled outcries escaped the pillow, but nothing substantial.

When he thought his mother had stopped paying attention, he whispered in his ear," If Terrence already got to Dad, it's too late."

"So?" Bloo countered, whipping the pillow off. "Terrence _deserves_ your father, considering what they've put you through."

Mac's mother's eyebrows rose, but she didn't comment. Cars and buildings sped by the windows and the boys ignored them.

"It's not fair," Mac whispered.

"Yeah, well, if life was fair, I wouldn't be stuck here in this car, would I?" Bloo countered.

"What are you whispering about, Mac?" his mother asked. They were coming up on the turn to Foster's Home's block.

"Dad," Mac said.

"But Bloo wouldn't know anything about your father, since he left before he was created," Mac's mother said sharply, as if daring Bloo to disagree.

"What I know is none of your business, lady," Bloo said.

She pulled up to Foster's and the car wheels screeched. "Get out. You and your overwhelming stench of the dumpster. Honestly, Mac, did you drag him out before you went into the hotel?"

"Maybe," Mac said and unbuckled Bloo. Bloo hissed like an angry cat, insisted he'd do it himself, and flung the buckle in Mac's face. Mac scowled.

"Thanks."

"Next time Terrence beats the crap out of me, I'd rather _walk_ home," Bloo snapped. He slammed the door on his way out and didn't look back. Mac scowled and the anger in the back of his head was directed at his mother, not him.


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note: Sorry, I haven't come up with much of a plot yet. I probably should map this thing out, although almost no one is reading it, so I don't see a necessity for it.

Chapter Six

Terrence considered himself the epitome of cleverness. That he wasn't, however, was beside the point. At the moment, he glorified in the realization he had just screwed his younger brother over again and this time, he'd dealt a wallop to Bloo at the same time. That would teach them to interfere. He grinned, relaxing back into the old pick up his father had bought. He'd have his father back, Mac would be out of the picture, and he'd finally be satisfied with life. He'd no longer have to go through it vengeful and angry, resentful of Mac for banishing their father or Bloo for befriending Mac and keeping Terrence from really wailing on his younger brother.

Yes, this was the life. He had neglected to tell his father he had snuck out and his mother knew nothing about this, except whatever Mac had told her when she awoke. Stupid little tattling brat. He was so glad he'd never have to deal with him again. Once he convinced his father to only handle him, not Mac, he'd slowly convince him he was better than Mac and make his father forget all about him. A new life in Townsville sounded like just what the doctor ordered.

He folded his arms behind his head and grinned. He had no idea he was in for such a rude awakening.  
**...**

Mac showered and changed while his mother hissed, impatient, on the phone. His father wasn't answering and he was their best bet for Terrence's location. A small part of Mac, very small, wished she wouldn't bother. He supposed this part matched Bloo, because the tiny space Bloo occupied in the back of his mind, awake or asleep, despised Terrence even more than he did. Something clicked 'out' in the back of his mind and he realized Bloo had gone to sleep. Considering the night he had had, Mac didn't blame him. However, this meant Bloo might be more active in his life than he'd be as a minor irritant in his head. He grimaced.

His mother slammed the phone on its receiver and snarled. Immediately, he swallowed hard and stayed out of her way. He hadn't quite forgotten hers and Terrence's words about him not leaving well enough alone and starting this whole mess. Cautious, he approached and she looked up at him. She forced a smile she didn't feel and her disapproval weighed on him.

"I'm going to have to take off work at noon if we don't find Terrence," she snapped. She wasn't striking out at him specifically; she needed to vent. Throwing up her hands, she stormed around the apartment and raged about Terrence, though occasionally, she'd inquire why Mac hadn't been able to let this go. He slunk off to his room, shut the door, and slid to the floor with his arms around his knees.

_"Hey, buddy."_ Bloo, no more substantial than an apparition, hugged his knees next to him and smiled.

"Can't you dream about something else once in a while?" Mac asked. His mother slammed the phone receiver down a couple more times and snarled.

"Okay, Mac, that's it! We're going to Townsville! I thought we could discuss this like rational adults, but of course, your father and Terrence aren't-" she stopped and swallowed. Bloo hissed, eyes flashing, and jumped to his feet. Mac did too, right before his mother opened the door behind him.

_"See?"_ Bloo gloated. _**"We're**__ going to Townsville."_

Rather than answer him, he sighed. He followed his mother out and ignored Bloo's "cool! I can go through walls!". They walked to his car; Bloo commenting on everything much to Mac's irritation, and settled back in the car. Bloo tried putting on a seatbelt before remembering he didn't have to, and then gloated about it. Mac rubbed his temples; he'd tried blocking Bloo out before and that hadn't worked. But right now, as much as he loved his best friend, he was getting on his last nerve.

At a gas station, pulling in and stopping to pump her gas, Mac seized the opportunity to snap at Bloo. The car ride had been quiet, with his mother storming, and Bloo's rambling only audible to Mac.

"Do you ever shut up?" Mac hissed. Bloo had settled into the seat beside him. "I'm sick of listening to you go on and on. You don't even have to be here. What is your problem?"

Bloo turned his head, but not before Mac could see his words had stung him. The imaginary friend squared his jaw and said, _"You could have told me I was talking too much."_

"I couldn't," Mac hissed, "because my mom was in the car and she can't hear you. Only I can."

_"If you don't want my commentary on the road, then fine,"_ Bloo snapped. _"I won't give it. I thought you'd __**want**__ me around, but if you don't..."_

The pressure in the back of Mac's mind eased and Bloo popped out, leaving Mac alone in the car. He sighed, pinching his nose bridge. Later, when this mess was sorted out, he'd have to speak to him. And...huh. He had thought Bloo had vanished, yet there lingered a sullen, even smaller presence in the back of his mind. It was almost negligible and very easily ignored. It might have been a stray thought of his own in Bloo's voice whispering, _"I thought you wanted me around, but fine, I see how it is. Whatever, Mac."_

Banging his head into the car seat, he groaned. This was great. Just great. He hoped Terrence was having fun, because no one else was.  
**...**

Terrence was having the time of his life. He stuck his head out the window, rather like a dog, and whooped. His father smiled weakly, troubled, but didn't comment. Terrence would impress upon him how awesome this was later. In the meanwhile, he admired the increasing view of Townsville he had. Three blurs whipped around the skyscrapers; one pink, one blue, and one green. He thought he heard a monster roar.

"Oh, great, another monster attack," his father said with a groan. "That's the fifth one this week."

"Monster...or imaginary?" Terrence said, confused.

"I don't know," his father answered, grimacing. "They don't call 'em imaginary friends in Townsville, and I've never seen anyone with imaginary friends there."

"Ha," Terrence said, scoffing. "Maybe they're banned."

"Your mother doesn't know your brother didn't give up his, does she?"

Terrence blew a raspberry. He didn't want to discuss Mac. "Like it matters. So, am I going to live with you?"

"I don't know," his father said. He slowed down at the road blockage. Rubble was strewn across the bridge and a chunk of a skyscraper went flying over their heads to splash in the river. A great wave arose from the water and then settled. Terrence grinned. Frequent monster attacks- he could handle that. He could handle anything as long as it didn't require living in the stupid apartment with Mac and seeing Bloo around town.

"But I'm definitely not going back home, right?" Terrence said, growing excited.

"I don't know," came the reply. His father sounded tired. "I'm going to have to see the structural damage the Girls caused before I can even make decisions like that."

" 'Girls'?"

"The Powerpuff Girls. Haven't you heard of them?"

"Uh, yeah, sure!"

"Everyone loves them, but they're such a nuisance. We didn't have half this many problems before the girls were 'born'..."

"Yeah, yeah!" he said, hurrying to agree and hoping he'd gain brownie points. His father looked at him in the rearview mirror, sighed, and slowly eased his car through the now one open lane. Terrence grinned at his reflection. He'd live in a dump with his father; he didn't care about monsters or the Powerpuff Girls or whatever they were. He'd be free. Oh yeah.


	7. The Remedy

Author's Note: I finally have a plot! Yay!

Even though I didn't go where I had thought it would.

Chapter 7: The Remedy

Mac took refuge outside while his parents argued and Terrence threw in his two cents. He sat on the stoop with his arms around his legs and looked up at the sky, where three streaks hurtled toward Townsville's residential district. The hard nub in the back of his head simultaneously ignored and reached for him, creating a paradox where he sat and did nothing. Mac huffed; Bloo could wait.

The silence blanketing the apartment surprised him and, shocked, he looked back. It lingered and he opened the door to gape at Terrence, who wore an incredulous look on his face. Whatever concession had been reached, Mac hadn't heard, yet it left his family astonished. Terrence, remarkably, was the first to recover. Grinning from ear to ear, he hugged his father and flipped Mac off.

"Terrence! You apologize this instant!" their mother snapped.

"Hell no!" Terrence said. "I'm staying with Dad this summer and you're not! You hear me, loser? You're gonna be stuck in the apartment all summer with Mom and your lame imaginary friends while I'm with Dad. _All summer_."

"Mac isn't going to be with his 'imaginary friends' and this is only temporary, Terrence," Mac's mother said, sighing. "We'll see how your father can handle having you for two weeks before trying the whole summer."

Terrence grinned at Mac and Mac's stomach plummeted. He groped for the hard nub in his mind representing Bloo, but Bloo was blocking him out. Mac retreated and swallowed hard; he seemed to be having problems inhaling larger than short little bursts. His small body quaked and he stared at Terrence. It wasn't in him, not yet, to glare.

"C'mon, Mac, let's go," his mother said. "I need to prepare dinner."

"Terrence isn't staying here, is he?" Mac said. Terrence's sick grin coiled Mac's innards.

"He needs to pack his stuff first, but yes...he'll be staying here," his mother said.

"Ha! Suck on that, little bro!" Terrence cried gleefully.

"Enough, Terrence!" his mother snapped.  
**...******

Despite his argument with Bloo and the two ignoring each other, he called Foster's anyway to tell Mr. Herriman due to "extenuating circumstances" he couldn't see Bloo today. In actuality, he meant he didn't want to go near Foster's today and had no idea how to handle Bloo or the developing situation. The worse thing about it was that save for Terrence punching him on the arm and reminding him it was three o'clock, Mac might have forgotten to call the house.

Terrence was packing now and being thoroughly obnoxious about it. He played jaunty tunes (jaunty for him, anyway) and sang along loudly. When Mac banged his head into the wall, Terrence sang louder and Mac sighed. He was tempted to slip out of the apartment and go somewhere, Foster's or elsewhere, but he wasn't sure how his mother would respond to him vanishing while his brother packed. Although, at the moment...

"Terrence, be quiet!" his mother snapped. "I have work to do and you're disrupting my concentration."

Mac smiled thinly. She might let him go, if only because he'd be one less nuisance in the apartment. And Terrence really was getting on his nerves. He thought of the small hard marble shaped protrusion Bloo represented and how Bloo might be celebrating too if he knew. A summer without Terrence should have sounded like a dream come true, except it wasn't. A summer without Terrence meant a summer without his father too, and Mac had so wanted to spend at least part of the summer with him. It wasn't fair.

Terrence threw a box at him and Mac jumped, avoiding it and landing on his back like a crab. Terrence snickered and Mac thought of Terrence's rude gesture from earlier, but didn't repeat it. That was more Bloo's style...and he determinedly shunted his imaginary friend away again. Arguing with your best friend sucked when everything reminded you of him.

"Mac?" his mother said. She was sitting at the table and scanning through a list of figures with a pencil between her fingers. Beside the sheets she had a calculator and another pile of sheets in front of the electronic. It looked like she'd be busy for a while.

"I'm going out," he said. His mother looked up at Terrence, doing a victory dance and grating on Mac's nerves, and then back at her younger son.

"Don't stay out too late," she said. "I want you home before dark."

He nodded. "I won't."

Terrence whooped and cheered over not sharing his father with his brother and Mac slammed the door on his way out. He didn't know where he was going, but anywhere was better than here.

…

The hard little lump in his mind shifted into a voice. Mac whirled, sullen, hands in his pockets and head downcast. He felt like a common thug, or, with an ironic turn of events, like Terrence. He blinked at the voice.

_"Mac?" _

He started, looking around although he knew the voice's owner to be nowhere nearby. Without answering the voice or otherwise acknowledging it, he smirked. He thought Bloo was too angry at him to speak to him. Not that it really mattered, because Mac had no intention of speaking with him right now.

Terrence had the honor of spending the first summer with their father and Mac had nothing. He had found their father, convinced him to re-enter their lives, yet Terrence had won. It wasn't fair. Terrence shouldn't win. Terrence was the bully, the kid who picked on the sympathetic young hero and his best friend, and...Mac kicked an empty plastic bottle along. Every few feet it stopped and he kicked it again.

He, oblivious, walked along main street. The sun shone bright in the sky and kids darted in and out of shops, much to their keepers' annoyance. He didn't see the cars speeding along the street, either; his mood was too low to pay attention to anyone else. He probably wouldn't have even noticed an imaginary friend in trouble, he was so dispirited.

Bloo mentally jabbed him and Mac grimaced, twitching.

"Hey, quit it," he muttered.

The interruption had prompted him to hear the traffic again and tires screeched behind him. He jumped and looked up; the Foster's bus had stopped behind him and Frankie opened the door. She smiled at him and Mac's stomach somersaulted. She had a way of looking at him which brought butterflies to his stomach and his heart raced. A small blush crept across his cheeks.

"Hey, pal," Frankie said. "Where ya headed?"

"Nowhere," he admitted and hopped on. He sat in the seat behind the driver's seat and inhaled Frankie's body spray- watermelon. He smiled goofily.

"You okay? Mr. H said you didn't want to visit Foster's today," she said and closed the front door. She pulled the car away from the curb and resumed on her path; Foster's had a massive shopping expedition. Mac knew by the large shopping list Frankie had taped to the dashboard and smiled. He could help her shop.

"He said you sounded upset," she continued. "Did you and Bloo get into a fight?"

That wiped the smile off his face. "Kinda."

"Avoiding him won't solve the problem," she said and signaled into the left lane to get onto the highway. Their nearest supermarket was a kip along the highway and necessity (and government hand-outs) required Frankie to shop at the cheapest place for the bulk of the Foster's food. But hey, at least she got a big discount.

"That's not really the problem..." he said.

_"Mac..."_ Bloo called.

"Then what is it?" she asked gently. "C'mon, you can tell me."

The silence was unbearable for even a few seconds and he blurted, "You know what happened with my father, right?"

"Yeah...you ran away from home, spent the nights on the streets (and worried everyone in Foster's too, especially Bloo), and found him in Townsville. Then he brought you back and you've been trying to get him back into your life," she said. "Why?"

"Mom and Dad worked out he'd spent the summer with one of us," Mac said and punched the seat beneath him. He would have punched the seat in front of him, but since Frankie was sitting it, he thought his own safer.

"And Terrence won," Mac snapped, folding his arms across his chest and over the seatbelt. "Like he always does with my parents. He tricked my dad into getting the whole summer to himself and now I won't even see him."

"You don't know that's going to happen," Frankie said gently. "Maybe he'll come back and split the summer between the two of you."

"Terrence doesn't seem to think so," Mac said bitterly. "And I'll be stuck here-"

"Why would that be so bad?" she said. "I know you want to see your dad, Mac, but...well, I'm not supposed to tell you this, but..."

"Tell me what?" Mac said, growing excited despite himself.

"Foster's is hosting a summer games for imaginary friends this summer," she said. "Friends from all over the country are coming to compete for cash and prizes. It's a great fundraiser for the house and it tends to lead to a lot of adoptions."

She smiled. "Plus, while this is going on, we do creator-imaginary friend reunions every other weekend and there's a search to find the creators who still have their imaginary friends years after imagining them. Usually, we can't find anyone like Grandma and Mr. H, but you know, there are some surprises out there. There _are _people who keep their imaginary friends."

Mac's mood was buoyed and she smiled at him in the rearview mirror.

"Now, I know that's not as good as your father, but what do you think? You think you could muster some enthusiasm for it?" she asked and he grinned at her. She grinned back.

"Atta boy, Mac," she said. "Now, have you told Bloo about this yet?"

"About what?" he said, temporarily distracted. "Oh...you mean my father. No, I haven't told him. I'm not talking to him."

He felt a hard shove in the back of his head and though the bus hadn't made any sudden stops, he jerked forward in his seat. He groaned.

"What is it?"

"Bloo wanted to remind me he was still back there," Mac said. "He said if I didn't want his opinion, he wouldn't give it and vanished on me. And then he changed into a bitter little ball in the back of my mind, and now he's back to trying to get my attention."

Frankie smiled. "You know, Mac, I don't think Bloo would get up to half the trouble he does if you were around more often. Most of his pranks happen while you're at school or doing something else."

Mac shrugged, uncomfortable with the idea he indirectly responsible for the hell Bloo unleashed on Foster's on an almost daily basis. True, he had created Bloo, but he wasn't really responsible for his actions, not so much. He couldn't control him all that well.

"Want to help me shop?" she asked as she pulled into a set of parking spots further away from the store so normal people could park closer without worrying about two spots being taken up.

"Do I," he said energetically and unbuckled his seatbelt. She smiled at him.

"Can you stop by Foster's after we're done? What time do you have to be home?" she asked.

"Before dark," he said and she beamed. Her smile warmed his insides.

"That's not for a few hours," she said. "I think Bloo would like to see you."

The force in the back of his head prodded him particularly strongly and he stumbled on the stairs out the door. He grabbed the railing for support and grimaced. "Yeah...you could say that."


	8. Manic Monday

Author's Note: I know, I haven't updated in forever. I'm sorry. I have no real excuses except that LJ eats my soul on a regular basis. That and I'm taking summer classes and interning. But really, not an excuse.

Chapter Eight_: _Manic Monday

Terrence had two reactions to guilt. One of them involved him pummeling it until it ceased whining at him. It worked with Mac and the other kids he terrorized. His conscience didn't squeal like a little piggy like them, but he had the personal satisfaction of not having to worry what that stupid thing thought. He had tried alcohol to dull the senses, and it had worked too, but he had to be careful. Jimmying open his mom's liquor cabinet in front of his goody-two shoes brother would mean he'd get in a crap load of trouble.

When screaming at his conscience didn't work, he settled uneasily over it and pretended its needling belonged in someone else's head. Right now, he had the second reaction. He loved being with his father, but the incessant voice in the back of his head prattled at him he had done Mac wrong. He argued with it Mac deserved it and anyway, what did he care how Mac felt? He hated the brat and though he didn't want him to die, he wouldn't have minded Mac being in critical condition. Maybe. Right now, the voice disagreed with that too and Terrence growled.

His father had headed to work, leaving Terrence alone in the small apartment. This lasted roughly five minutes, before Terrence's boredom seized control of him and he wandered Townsville's streets. A pink streak crashed to the pavement in front of him and rubbed her head gingerly. She had long orange hair, pink eyes, and a bright red bow. Dazed, she moaned and managed a half hearted wave at Terrence before speeding back to the fight. He looked up at the sky and saw a giant monster, with two horns, rows of gleaming sharp teeth, green skin like an alligator, four arms, and spikes on his spine. He thought he heard one girl order the other two streaks around and they hastened to attack the monster. Terrence frowned and started wandering closer to the monster, curiosity seizing him.

A strong hand hauled Terrence back from the curb and he stared at the wizened old man with arms like steel. He looked like an aged warrior, with more gums than teeth and a strange wrestler's belt.

"You don't wanna go near there, sonny. The Powerpuff Girls try to keep people from getting hurt, but sometimes, it's not possible," he wheezed.

"Yeah...right..." Terrence said, rolling his eyes mentally. Like this old goat could tell him what to do. "What's up with these Powderpuff Girls, anyway?"

"They're the town's protectors," the man said. "Sugar, spice, and everything nice. And a dose of Chemical X. Everybody knows the story."

"They're imaginary friends?" Terrence said.

"Well, if they were imaginary, you wouldn't see them, would you?" the man cackle wheezed and shook his head at Terrence. "You're a strange boy."

One of the streaks, the green one, scored a definite hit and the man cheered. He raced to the other end of the street and rooted the girls on. Terrence rolled his eyes, waited for the man to be sufficiently engaged in the stupid showdown, and crept closer to the action. The man said the girls weren't imaginary friends, but that was impossible. The monster and the girls had to be imaginary. Otherwise, they wouldn't exist. He spared a half thought for Red, his imaginary, and scoffed. The stupid thing hadn't helped him out. Why should he care what happened to it? It was like Mac. Useless. He snorted. Slightly better than Mac. It didn't have some cowardly imaginary blue blob to hide behind.

He pounded a fist into his palm and headed through Townsville's business district. Mac didn't need a father. Terrence did. Mac had his mother, who actually loved him. Terrence stopped dead, surprised by his train of thought. Okay, so normally he didn't think a lot, so any train of thought with him was a huge occurrence. But he hadn't actually considered their parents to belong to separate people. At least, not consciously. Some part of him, a part he despised and seldom acknowledged, actually thought these things through. It had to. He functioned on emotion usually, and craved fear and hatred from others, but he came up with strange conclusions at times. He wasn't _that_ stupid. He just preferred to be stupid than to be the nerdy kid who got beaten up. And he worked at being an idiot, so no one thought any better of him.

That and it was easier to be stupid.

He lumbered through the crowd of screaming people and stared up at the sky. The girls were making mincemeat out of the monster. A ragged cheer rose through his throat and he looked around immediately afterward, to make sure no one heard him cheering on sissy girls. No one had. A lot of people were afraid the monster would fall on them. He wasn't. He didn't think it would. Those buildings would break its fall.

The girls swooped in and carted the monster off, prompting another cheer from him. The rest of the town cheered too, so no one heard him. He surprised himself again. He really liked the girls. He scowled. He hoped no one found out and ruined his reputation. He exerted effort not to think about being overly feminine and heard his father sigh from beside him. He, along with a few other men, surveyed the damage the monster had caused.

"I hate monsters," his father said, grimacing. "It means I'm never out of work, but it means I'm also stuck in work. All the time. And they only show up to challenge those damn girls."

"So, Dad, are you going to show me your work place?" Terrence asked.

"Maybe later," he said. "I thought I told you to stay home."

"Home got boring," he replied. "I'm not just going to stay in the apartment all day."

"What do you do at home to occupy yourself?"

"Video games...picking on people, making fun of lame imaginary friends," Terrence sneered. His father frowned and Terrence amended his statement. "Uh, I mean, doing homework and being a good kid?"

"Right," his father said. "I'm busy here. I told you when I picked you up I wasn't always going to have time for you."

"That's okay," he said. He beamed at his father. "I'm just I'm glad I'm here." _And Mac isn't._

"Be glad you're here from a safer distance," his father said and groaned, looking at the buildings that had collapsed from the girls' fight. "I have work to do."  
**

* * *

**

The first morning without Terrence was quiet. The apartment was empty. His mother had gone to work and he shuffled into the kitchen to prepare his own breakfast. He stopped, smelling smoke. His eyes watered and a familiar blue blob popped into the hallway. He had on a chef's hat, which was set jauntily askew. The hat used to be white. It was now black and smoking. Bloo hadn't noticed. He smiled at his creator.

"Hey, Mac," he said. "You might wanna go out for breakfast." He snorted. "Who thought putting a frosted pop-tart and sausages in the toaster would set it on fire?"

Mac's jaw dropped. "You did _what_?"

"They should have warnings on those things," Bloo said.

"They _do_!" he shrieked and raced to the kitchen. The toaster was still on fire and he grabbed a fire extinguisher to put it out. Foam sprayed everywhere and he looked up, at the derelict smoke detector. "Why didn't the smoke detector go off?"

"Oh, I shut that off ages ago," Bloo said. "You'd think putting the eggs on full flame would have made them cook better, instead of catching fire. Huh. So many things are flammable."

"Did you set anything _else_ on fire?" Mac growled.

Bloo handed him a carton of orange juice. Flames shot out of it, along with smoke. Mac stared and threw it into the sink. He ran water over it and resumed staring at his imaginary friend.

"How did you set orange juice on fire?" he said through gritted teeth. Bloo shrugged.

"I dunno. So, what's for breakfast?"

"Well, after I fix the mess _you_ made-"

"If you didn't want me to make you breakfast before you woke up, you should have said something," Bloo said.

"I was asleep!"

"That's no excuse."

Mac grumbled. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

Bloo sniffed and then screamed, flinging his long suffering hat into the sink. "My hat's on fire! My hat's on fire!"

Somehow, he had forgotten about that. Bloo jumped onto the faucet and sprayed water on it. It sizzled out and they heaved sighs of relief. Nonchalantly, Bloo looked up at him and Mac sighed.

"What are you doing here?"

"You left Foster's kinda early yesterday," he said. "And you have that 'I have something I'm not telling Bloo' look."

Mac stared. "Since when do you know when I'm keeping things from you?"

"Since yesterday. At the supermarket. You know something and you're not telling me." He batted his eyelashes at him and gave him the puppy dog eyes. "Why wouldn't you tell me? _Me_, Blooregard Q. Kazoo, your best friend in the whole world?"

"I don't want to talk about it," he said.

"C'mon. _C'mooooooooooon_," Bloo whined. "_C'moooooooooooon_."

"No, Bloo," he said. "You won't take it seriously."

"Moi? Not take something seriously?" he said and sniffed. "You insult me."

"Okay, fine. But promise you won't celebrate and run around the apartment cheering. _And_ promise me you won't tell me it's the best thing that's ever happened or that this summer is going to be awesome without him."

"I promise. Now, who are we talking about?" Bloo said, rubbing his stubby arms together. "Wilt?'Cuz I gotta tell you, I don't think he's going anywhere. Even if he'll apologize for it. Now, Mr. Herriman on the other hand, if he went, the summer would be _awesome_."

"No," he said. "It's not Mr. H and it's not Wilt. It's Terrence."

"Terrence is going to be gone for the whole summer?" Bloo said and jumped up into the air with a woot. "Did he get sent to detention camp? Or fat camp? He could probably stand to lose a few pounds...or the fat in his brain."

"He's going to be with my father for the summer," he said. "At least part of it."

One would have thought a miniature explosion had transpired in the apartment. Bloo ran around screaming, pumping his little fists in the air, and danced on the furniture. He offered Mac a high five, didn't react when his creator didn't reciprocate, and resumed celebrating. It took him a full five minutes to calm down enough to notice Mac was glaring at him.

"Terrence kept me from being with my father," Mac said. He scowled. "He knew I wanted to be with him-"

"Your father abandoned you," Bloo said. "Why would you _want_ to spend time with him? Let the deadbeats be together."

"Because, Bloo, I never got to know my father," he said. "And _I_ found him. _I_ got him to stay."

"You also forgot to pack food and wandered around for a week without telling anyone where you'd gone," Bloo said. "That wasn't a great idea."

"That's not the point. The point is that I wanted to spend time with my father and Terrence ruined things. Again."

"So?" he said, snorting. "Now you'll have a Terrence free summer. Who cares about your father?"

"I do," he said and threw the toaster into the trash. He headed into the living room and threw himself on the sofa. "I didn't think you'd understand."

"I understand," Bloo insisted, rolling his eyes. "Of course I understand." He grinned. "Terrence will be gone and your dad took him. Party time!"

"No," he said. "Not 'party time'."

Bloo snorted. "Duh, party time. You're finally getting two months away from the guy who wails on you every day."

"It might be party time if my father weren't involved," Mac said. Bloo hopped onto the sofa beside him and stared at him. Mac stared back.

"You're telling me you're going to sulk all summer because your father didn't take _you_?" Bloo said, mouth agape. He jumped onto his lap and grabbed him by the hair. "You've been giving the opportunity of a lifetime. Do you hear me? The. Opportunity. Of. A. Lifetime. _And you're going to waste it being upset about your father_?"

"You don't understand."

"Darn right I don't understand!" he said. "Who cares where Terrence is and what he's doing? You have two months with no bullying, no name calling, no wet willies, no spitballs, no wedgies, no swirlies, and you're going to sit here and mope? What the heck is _wrong_ with you?"

"I guess it'd be good to have Terrence gone..." he said.

"You guess? You _guess_?" he shrieked. He knocked his stubby arm on the top of his creator's head. "Hello? Earth to Mac! It's gonna be awesome!"

"There is something else, but if I told you, you'd tell everyone in the house," he said and Bloo batted his eyelashes innocently. Mac's hair hurt from Bloo pulling it out by the roots and Bloo relaxed his grip. He stayed standing on Mac's legs, however, and about five inches away from Mac's face.

"I won't tell a soul," he said and held up a stubby arm. "I promise."

"I don't know..." Mac said, looking away. "You're not good with secrets. Of any kind."

Bloo snorted. "Yeah, secrets about _you_. Those are just too fun to keep to myself."

"Frankie will probably tell the house soon enough," Mac hedged.

Bloo jumped up and down on his lap. "Tell me! Tell me! Tell _me_!"

"You have to promise to keep it to yourself..._and_-" he added at Bloo's vigorous nod, "you have to promise to stop acting like Terrence being with my dad is the best thing ever."

Bloo giggled. Mac sighed. He rolled his eyes. "Never mind. I knew you couldn't keep a secret."

"I can too!" Bloo insisted. He grinned, flashing his pearly whites and hoping to dazzle Mac. "When was the last time I ever lied to you?"

"Three days ago."

"That was three days ago. This is _today_," he said and beamed at his creator. "I swear, I won't tell anyone _and_ I'll stop ribbing you. So, what is it? What is it? C'mon, Mac, you can't just lead me in and then leave me flat."

"Fine," he said. He didn't think Bloo would keep his mouth shut, but if Frankie told the house anyway, it wouldn't do any real damage. "Foster's is going to have an imaginary friends Olympics, and epic creator-creation reunions all this summer."

"Olympics?" Bloo said and delusions of grandeur filled his head. Mac could see him mentally counting the metals he'd win and all the fame and fortune he'd gain. Never mind that Bloo was a lightweight and had no real chance in any competition. It was a competition, it entailed fame, and Bloo was in. Mac let him daydream for a few minutes while he tried not to think about how much fun Terrence was having with their father. A heavy weight descended on his chest while Bloo boasted and he forced himself to feel Bloo's enthusiasm, because it was the only way to stop being so dejected.

Bloo was spelling out his name in lights and experimentally punching and kicking around the living room. Mac's stomach growled.

"We should get some breakfast," he said. Bloo stopped, spinning on the spot, and sprawled at Mac's feet. He grinned up at him.

"Yeah, I could go for a dozen eggs right now," Bloo said. He jumped up and yanked Mac to his feet. "So, where are we going?"

Mac wrinkled his nose at the burnt stench from the kitchen. "I dunno. I guess we'll see who's still serving breakfast at 10:30."


	9. The City of Townsville

Author's Note: Almost a year since I updated this, and I only updated it on a whim. Hah.

Major PpG/Foster's crossover in the Terrence half. I love the PpG too much not to do homage to them.

If anyone notices this update, I might continue the series again.

Chapter Nine: The City of Townsville

It turned out the answer to the question- 'who was still serving breakfast at 10:30' was iHop. Mac's mom had left him money for breakfast, which Bloo had thankfully not set on fire, unlike practically everything else in the kitchen. Stuffing the money in his pocket and hoping air deodorizers would neutralize the smell, Mac dropped the keys in his pocket and followed Bloo out the door. Bloo was bubbly, visions of grandeur before his eyes, and Mac wished he could pick up Bloo's enthusiasm.

Then he thought about it. Why should he waste time being depressed about his father choosing Terrence? He could spend the entire day miserable he'd lost his spot, or he could spend it talking to Bloo about ways to beat all the competition they didn't know about yet. Even if they didn't win, which Mac thought unlikely anyway, it'd be fun to imagine. Plus, it took his mind off his family problems, and Bloo could ramble for hours if properly wound up.

"Do you think Wilt's creator will come back?" he asked, walking alongside his best friend. Bloo skipped every third step and Mac smiled, inordinately fond of his imaginary egomaniac.

Bloo scoffed. "He only came back because we found him. And it's not about old imaginary friends and their lame creators, it's about us and how we are totally going to destroy the competition!"

"But, Bloo, we don't even know what the sports are," Mac pointed out. They traveled on the sidewalk and Mac saw Ivan and Stevie hand in hand, Ivan's anxiety loud enough to discern across the street over traffic. Bloo didn't notice the two. He was too busy kicking random bottles and punching the air.

"So? We don't need to know what we're doing to win," he said.

"I think that's the basic point," Mac said.

"Mac, Mac," Bloo said and stopped, putting his arms around his creator. "It's not about the sports. It's about how awesome we're gonna look when we beat their brains in and get to brag about it for months. Wait, how often is this thing held?"

"Since it wasn't held last year, because I was with Foster's last year, maybe every two years?" Mac said.

"Exactly. Two years bragging rights."

"But what if they have a weightlifting competition?" Mac said. "I'd like to see you lift more than a sandwich."

Bloo gasped. "You doubt me? I'll pick you up and throw you over my shoulder."

"Oh really?" Mac arched his eyebrows at him. "Prove it."

"I'll do more than prove it! I'll- I'll-" he grabbed Mac around the waist and tried lifting him. Strain turned his cheeks red and he huffed, struggling to lift Mac off the ground.

"How much do you weigh?" he whined.

"About sixty pounds," Mac said. He smirked. "What's the matter, Bloo? I thought you said you'd win."

"You're…too…heavy…" Bloo protested and fell over. Mac smirked, staring down at him. Bloo jumped back up and poked Mac in the stomach.

"It's not my fault you're fat."

"I'm not fat," Mac said. "I'm the average weight for a nine year old."

"You can deny it all you want, but if I can't lift you, you're getting fat," Bloo said.

"And who ate his weight in pudding yesterday?" Mac retorted. "If you ask me, you're the one getting fat."

"Well I never!" Bloo sputtered.

Mac hoisted Bloo over his shoulder and grinned at him. He jabbed Bloo's stomach with his shoulder and his imaginary friend whined.

"You cheated," Bloo said.

"Uh huh," Mac said. "Face it, Bloo. The only competition you'd ever win is an eating competition, and even then, you'd lose to Eduardo."

"You're on!" Bloo said. "All you can eat breakfast!"

"I can't afford all you can eat breakfast," Mac said.

"It's all you can eat," Bloo said. "They didn't say anything about paying."

"Uh, Bloo, isn't that how you wound up in jail a couple weeks ago?" Mac said.

"No," Bloo scoffed, folding his arms across his chest. "That was because they lied. All you can eat should include breakfast, lunch, and dinner."

"You came during dinner and didn't even pay for that," he pointed out.

"Rip-off artists," he answered.

"We're not going near that again," Mac said. He frowned, contemplating what else could be at the Olympics, without thinking about how Bloo twisted logic to suit himself. "What other things do you think will be there?"

Bloo shrugged and then inspiration hit him. "The most awesome, biggest, wettest water slide ever!"

"You did that already. You destroyed the house and you made a fool of yourself online," Mac said. "Remember?"

"Oh, yeah," he said. "That wasn't that much fun, you know."

Mac snickered. "Not for you."

They headed to the entrance and Mac lapsed into thought again. The last time he'd been here was with his mom and Terrence. He didn't eat out very often, since they didn't usually have the money for it, though they might have a little more money now with Terrence staying with their father. Bloo wanted him to believe this summer would be better without his brother, and maybe it would be, in certain ways. (Bloo was jabbing him in the ribs now to keep him from thinking depressing thoughts).

"C'mon, Mac, I'm hungry," he whined.

"Okay, okay," he said. "You know, Bloo…"

"This better be related to food," he said.

"Didn't you eat before you ruined the kitchen?"

"So? There's always room for more," he said.

"Anyway," he said, rolling his eyes, "Thanks."

"For what?" Bloo said, blinking. "Being totally awesome? Being amazing and loveable? For being my awesome self?"

"Never mind," Mac said. He hugged Bloo and Bloo hugged him back. Even if he was going to be stuck without his dad, he'd have more time to pal around. And Frankie might be right. Bloo might get up to more mischief without Mac around. Then again…

Mac grinned mischievously. There were all sorts of pranks left to do, and they couldn't punish Mac. He didn't live there.

* * *

Terrence had more time to himself than he'd wanted. His father was working on construction and he had no one to show him the sights, leaving him to wander around Townsville. He was trying to figure out how the Powerpuff Girls could have superpowers and how their opponents could be monsters, and yet clearly not imaginary. No one in Townsville had known what he was talking about when he said imaginary friends, either, and gave him strange looks for his trouble. Terrence was used to scorn and ridicule, but on something he considered so basic as to be unquestionable; it was unsettling for no one to believe him.

"Oh hi there," a girl said and flew in front of him. Her long, red hair sparkled in the sun and her large pink eyes fixated on him. It took him a few seconds to place her.

"You're a Powderpuff girl, right?" he said.

She looked mildly annoyed. "Powerpuff. You must be new."

"How come you're not imaginary?" Terrence said.

"What?" she said. Two laser blasts, blue and green, shot next to her. The three girls had the same large eyes, different colors, and the same outfits, excepting, again, the colors. The blonde haired girl giggled at him and the raven-haired girl shot him an incredibly dirty look. She pounded one fist into the other and the auburn haired girl shook her head at her.

"You want to know why we're not imaginary," the red haired girl said slowly.

"Oh jeez," the black haired girl said. "Where do we get these clowns?"

"Clowns?" the blonde haired girl cocked her head curiously at Terrence. "He doesn't look like a clown to me."

"We're not imaginary. We're Blossom-" she inclined her head, "Bubbles-" she pointed to the blonde, "and Buttercup. We're superheroes."

"I got that," Terrence said. "But shouldn't you, you know, have creators and stuff?"

"Do you mean Professor Utonium?" Blossom asked. "He's our father."

Terrence stared at her. He really didn't understand. "You're not imaginary."

"No…" Blossom said.

"And the monsters you fight aren't imaginary either, right?" he said.

"That's right…" Blossom said.

"Jeez, Louise," Buttercup said. "Where are you from? Mars?"

"You don't have imaginary friends at all," Terrence said.

"I wouldn't say 'at all'," Blossom said.

"But you can't see them," Buttercup said.

"And they don't talk," Bubbles said.

"And we haven't dealt with any in a while," Blossom said. She blinked at him. "Why would you think we're imaginary?"

"Don't you have crime to fight? Or buildings to wreck?" Terrence asked. He still didn't understand, and he really didn't like the looks the girls were giving him, like he was stupid or something. They were younger than him, younger than Mac, and how dare they look at him like a retard. Of course, they could probably beat the crap out of him and throw him in the dumpster, like he'd done to Bloo a few days ago. That stilled his tongue more than anything.

"No, Townsville's safe for now," Blossom said. "You look lost."

"We are not showing him around," Buttercup announced loudly.

"Aw, but he looks like a really dirty puppy," Bubbles said.

"He does not," Buttercup objected.

"He does too look like a puppy," Bubbles said. "Can we keep him?"

"No!" Blossom and Buttercup chorused.

"I am not a toy for a stupid five year old girl," Terrence said.

"We're almost seven," Buttercup said.

"And anyway, we were just going to show you around," Blossom said. "Show you where to go, what sites the monsters like so you shouldn't go there-"

"How not to get in our way," Buttercup interjected.

"I'm fine on my own," Terrence grumbled.

"Suit yourself," Blossom said. "But if you need us, we'll always hear you."

"That's right, cute little puppy," Bubbles said and scratched his chin. He lunged at her and they zoomed off before he could touch them. Disturbed, Terrence shook his head and started into town. He didn't want to make friends with the girls, no matter how awesome their powers might be. He also didn't want to face the possibility he might know the Powerpuff Girls better than his father, when they were roadside attractions and his father…might or might not be there for him when he wanted him.

The girls didn't help reconstruct what they destroyed. They didn't stop buildings from being demolished, either. He ought to resent them for taking his father away from him, but they were a combination of cool and intimidating.

He was ashamed to admit it, even for a few seconds, but he almost wished Mac was here with him. Normally, he was alone, but he could pretend he wasn't by trying to get street thugs with him. There weren't street thugs here. This was a nice, clean neighborhood, where all the thugs got their heads handed to them courtesy of the Powerpuff Girls. It made it boring, in a way. How could three girls stop crime all on their own?

And what if his dad hadn't really wanted him along? What if he'd forced himself and now his dad didn't want to spend time with him? What if, maybe…he really did prefer Mac, like everyone else did?


End file.
